


you're like my drug but I can't get high off you

by punk_rock_yuppie



Category: Big Time Adolescence (2020)
Genre: Age Difference, Angst, Barebacking, Canon Compliant, Canon Divergence, Hurt No Comfort, M/M, Mo is 16, Mo is Trans, Multiple Orgasms, Trans Male Character, Trans Man Mo Harris, Unsafe Sex, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex, Virginity Kink, mild dirty talk, porn without plot/plot what plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-19
Updated: 2020-04-19
Packaged: 2021-03-01 19:40:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,070
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23742421
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/punk_rock_yuppie/pseuds/punk_rock_yuppie
Summary: After Zeke rescues him from the house party, they go back to Zeke's place.
Relationships: Monroe "Mo" Harris/Zeke Presanti
Comments: 4
Kudos: 30





	you're like my drug but I can't get high off you

**Author's Note:**

> I've been meaning to write a "they fuck on the couch during that scene" fic for ages and i finally decided it would be trans mo when i did it. as always, mo's trans experience is based on mine and those of people i know, so your mileage may vary. 
> 
> this is really just porn with a dash of emotional hurt, so....enjoy!
> 
> thanks to han for beta'ing! title is from 'let you go' by mgk bc of course

“Holly tried to hook up with me,” Mo admits, scrubbing at his eyes. 

“Oh shit, really?” Zeke looks away, then back, then away. “Like, sex?”

Mo nods. “I couldn’t...I didn’t do it. She doesn’t know...about me.” Mo grasps at the front of the sweater hanging off his frame. He had to take his binder off because it was soaking wet and his chest still feels chilled even under Zeke’s sweater. “I didn’t wanna have that conversation.” 

“That’s fair, man. Coulda lost your virginity though, that would’ve been sick.”

“I guess.” Mo closes his eyes. “I wanted to tell you, but, I mean. It was your girlfriend.”

“Yeah, I can imagine how that would be rough.”

“I’m sorry,” Mo says, “I didn’t want to, like, betray you or anything.” 

“Nah, man, come here. Get over here, dude.” Zeke lifts his arm in an invitation and Mo manages to climb to his feet and wander over to the couch. “Even if you had fucked her, I wouldn’t be mad. Losing your virginity is sick as hell.”

Mo shifts awkwardly. Zeke’s arm falls over his shoulders after he ruffles Mo’s hair. “I guess. I don’t...I don’t know how I’m gonna do that.” He rubs a hand over his chest uncomfortably. “Like, who’s gonna want to sleep with me?” He laughs and shakes his head. “I don’t even wanna sleep with me. That’s weird.”

Zeke doesn’t say anything right away and Mo feels a flush of embarrassment burn through him like a forest fire. He shifts awkwardly again and starts to lean away from Zeke. Zeke’s hand tightens on his shoulder and keeps him from straying too far, though. When Mo looks up—he doesn't know why he does it, what he means to say or what he’s hoping to see in Zeke’s face—Zeke bends down to kiss him.

Mo gasps into it and Zeke takes that moment to slip him the tongue. Mo gasps again and shivers at the feeling of Zeke’s tongue against his. The moment of shock passes and Mo presses closer. Zeke knots a hand in Mo’s hair and forcibly tilts his head, deepening the kiss even more.

Mo pulls away gasping. “Zeke, hold up.”

“You asked who’d wanna sleep with you.” Zeke’s hand drifts from Mo’s hair down to his neck, then lower still to his waist. “I do, Momo.”

“What?” Mo’s head is spinning. “Why? Since when?” Zeke’s been on his radar as “hot” and “sexy” and whatever else since Mo hit puberty when he was twelve. He never got the impression Zeke was thinking the same way about him, and Mo feels dizzy with the knowledge. 

Zeke’s hand flexes on his hip. “You’re cute, Mo. I dunno, you’ve always been cute.” 

Mo’s heart is pounding a mile a minute. “No way.” He’s torn between grinning embarrassingly wide and hiding his face in his hands. He wants to kiss Zeke senseless and crawl into a hole because somehow, impossibly, Zeke wants to kiss him—Zeke wants to have _sex_ with him. All his other worries and panic fall away at the feeling of Zeke’s body so close to his, at the promise of Zeke’s lips on his and his hands on his skin. 

Zeke laughs, his breath warm on Mo’s lips. “Yeah, dude. Why, you don’t wanna?” Zeke starts to pull away, somehow a gentleman, and Mo reaches out to grab at his shirt.

“No,” Mo rasps, “I mean, I do.” He tugs at Zeke’s shirt, tugging him closer. “I do want this.”

Zeke breaks into a grin. “Yeah? Sick.” His hand wraps around Mo’s hip and he pulls. Mo gets the hint and clambers into Zeke’s lap.

His head is kind of spinning—so much has happened tonight, from jumping into a pool and fleeing the cops and crying his heart out to Zeke. Now he’s in Zeke’s lap, hands digging into Zeke’s shoulders, ready to beg for another kiss. He feels off kilter but also so at home in Zeke’s lap, and the heat of Zeke’s boner under his ass is like a fire burning Mo to his core. 

“C’mere,” Zeke says, tilting his head back. 

Mo leans in to kiss him. It’s warm and slow but still sends chills down his spine. He wriggles in Zeke’s lap and grinds down 

“Fuck yeah, Momo, just like that.” Both of Zeke’s hands are on Mo’s hips now, flexing and gripping. His palms feel like brands on Mo’s hips and Mo never wants to stop feeling this way. “Can I take your pants off, Mo? Please?”

Mo nods and shudders as Zeke moves one hand to make quick work of the sweats. He’s borrowing them from Zeke anyway, they’re too big and slipping off even without Zeke pawing at them. Mo whimpers as the sweats hit his knees, exposing his hips and groin to the cool air of Zeke’s living room. 

“Fuck,” Mo whimpers. He bucks his hips forward, can’t help it, and Zeke rewards him with a thumb against his cock. “Oh god, fuck, Zeke.”

“God, you’re so cute, Mo, even your cock is cute.” Zeke thumbs over his cock again and again, the friction dry but earth shatteringly good. “How’s it feel?”

“So good,” Mo manages to gasp. He thrusts his hips forward eagerly, desperately. He could come like this, is dangerously close to it. He’s wanted Zeke for so long it’s embarrassing and he still can’t quite believe he’s getting exactly what he wants. “Will you—inside? Will you put it inside me?”

“Oh shit, Mo, you’re gonna kill me.” Zeke does twist his hand though and slides his hand deeper between Mo’s thighs. One bony fingertip slips between his lips and inside where he’s wet and aching for it. Mo’s never had anything beside his own fingers inside him and he chokes on a moan as Zeke’s finger slides in to the second knuckle. “God, you’re so wet.”

“Ah,” Mo gasps, breathy. His brain is short circuiting and words are getting harder to form. “I’m gonna come.”

“Shit, really?” Zeke looks down between his legs in awe. “Fucking awesome.” His other hand strays from Mo’s hip back to his cock. Zeke’s finger inside him isn’t especially thick but coupled with the friction on his cock it’s enough to send Mo abruptly tumbling over the edge of orgasm. 

Mo’s whole body locks up, even more than when he gets himself off, and he lets out a crooked, weak cry. He works his hips against Zeke’s hands and clenches around the single finger inside him and wishes it was more. He wishes it was two fingers, or three; better yet he wishes it was Zeke’s dick. 

“You’re fucking pretty when you come,” Zeke whispers and a last jolt of pleasure races through Mo’s body. He falls forward against Zeke with a sigh and whimpers when Zeke’s finger slips out of him. 

“That was,” Mo starts, “I can’t even.” 

“Yeah, I bet. You’re sensitive as fuck, Momo.” Zeke strokes at Mo’s side. “S’hot.”

“Yeah?” He’s still breathless from the force of his orgasm and he’s aching to come a second time already. 

“Yeah, hot as hell.” Zeke finally looks up at him with his pupils blown wide. “You gonna let me fuck you?”

Mo doesn’t even hesitate when he says, “Yeah, yeah, please.”

“Fuck yeah.” With an arm around his waist, Zeke pulls Mo onto the cushions beside him. He pulls at the sweats hanging around Mo’s thighs and yanks them off before clambering onto his knees and fumbling with his own jeans. “This good?” Zeke asks as he gets his dick out, a hand stroking idly along the flushed, stiff skin.

Mo’s mesmerized and for a second he forgets how to speak. He watches Zeke stroke his cock for a long moment before he remembers how words work. “Yeah,” he moans softly, “this is good.” 

“Sweet.” Zeke’s fingers curl around the base of his dick and he pushes at Mo’s thigh with his free hand. “Tell me if it hurts, kay? Shouldn’t hurt.”

“Yeah, okay.” Mo spreads his legs obediently and flushes hot at feeling so exposed. He’s spread wide for Zeke and he can feel the cool air against the slick clinging to his skin. He feels dripping wet, turned on in a way he’s never known before. He feels dizzy with it and never wants it to end. 

“Gonna do it,” Zeke says and then the head of his cock is pressing at Mo’s opening. It’s thick and hot and for a split second, Mo thinks it might not fit. But then it pops in and there’s no pain, only fullness, and Mo wails. “You’re so fucking tight, Mo, shit.”

“S’my first time,” Mo whimpers inanely. Zeke sinks into him slow and patient but Mo still feels like he’s being wrecked from the inside out. It’s all heat and hardness and Mo clenches around him desperately.

“Oh trust me, I can tell,” Zeke says with a shudder that rocks Mo’s body too. Once he’s in to the hilt, he falls forward. It leaves their fronts all pressed together and puts Zeke close enough to kiss. So Mo does, and Zeke kisses him back hungrily. It feels like he’s being broken apart and devoured and he never wants it to end. “Gonna start thrusting now, okay? You good?”

“Good,” Mo agrees, “m’good, want you.” He wraps his arms around Zeke’s neck and pants against his lips. “Fuck, Zeke.” 

“Yeah,” Zeke moans. “Sound so pretty sayin’ my name.” Zeke does start to thrust and it’s not hard, not deep, but Mo feels it to his core all the same. Zeke’s reaching spots inside him no one else has ever touched, spots Mo’s never been able to reach with his own fingers. It’s mind numbingly good, the kind of sensation that Mo wants to live in forever. It’s decadent like fancy chocolate or a cashmere sweater and Mo whines. “Fuck yeah, Momo, that’s it, let me hear you.” 

“Zeke,” Mo moans, “please.”

“Please what, baby? Tell me.” Zeke’s thrusts slow and Mo lets out a groan of frustration. “Want more? Gotta tell me.” 

“Please,” Mo gasps, “harder.” 

“That’s it,” Zeke says approvingly, and pleasure fills Mo’s gut as Zeke delivers. 

He thrusts hard and fast, the couch squeaking underneath them. They’re both panting heavily and Zeke’s cock is reaching almost too deep inside Mo and the friction on his cock is just right. He’s going to come again, embarrassingly fast, but it’s just too much. He almost feels like he needs to pee and tamps down on the feeling but it does nothing to slow his orgasm. 

“Cute,” Zeke says, grinning. “You gonna come?”

“How could you tell?” Mo asks.

“Your nose does this thing.” Zeke bends down to kiss him and fucks him mercilessly through his second orgasm. He drinks in Mo’s moans and never stops pounding into Mo even as his orgasm crests and passes, leaving him shivering and oversensitive. “You got another?”

“I don’t know,” Mo replies honestly. “I’ve never...I’ve never done more than two.”

“I think you’ve got another in you,” Zeke says before kissing him again. It’s slower than their fucking but just as dirty. Mo can only submit and let Zeke memorize every crevice of his mouth. They’re still kissing when Zeke starts to move and brings Mo along with him. 

Mo shrieks slightly into the kiss and Zeke pulls away with a laugh. He’s sitting upright again and Mo’s sinking onto his cock. If he thought Zeke’s dick was deep inside him before, it’s nothing compared to now. 

“Fuck,” Mo says, “oh, god.” 

“Yeah, you like that?” Zeke grins at him, all cigarette stained teeth. “Can I turn you around? It’ll be hot, you’ll love it.”

“Okay,” Mo agrees. “You’re gonna have to help me, I don’t think I can move my legs.”

Zeke laughs. “Fucked you that good, huh?” Even so, he does help Mo lift up, twist around so his back is to Zeke’s chest, then helps him sink back onto Zeke’s cock. 

“Oh, shit.” Mo feels like his eyes might bulge out of his head. The angle is different. Different nerve endings lighting up as Zeke drags Mo along his cock. Mo’s thighs burn with the effort it takes to keep moving on Zeke’s dick but it’s all feeding into a feeling of pleasure. Mo relaxes against Zeke’s chest and tips his head back as Zeke mouths along his throat.

“So pretty,” Zeke murmurs, voice vibrating against Mo’s skin, “always knew you’d be so fuckin’ pretty.”

“You thought about this?” Mo asks. He’s a little clearer headed after two orgasms, even if his body feels loose-limbed and noodly. 

“Yeah,” Zeke says simply as he casually reaches around to flick at Mo’s cock, swollen and sensitive. “Knew you’d look pretty riding a cock, even better if it’s mine.” 

Mo gasps. He’s never been a fan of porn, really, at least not with the sound on—but Zeke’s voice is all he needs to get off for the rest of his life. It’s crude and filthy and it’s everything Mo never knew he needed. “Jesus,” he manages to gasp.

“Just Zeke is fine,” Zeke says, his grin pressed to Mo’s neck. He bites down between one moment and the next and suckles at Mo’s skin to leave a mark. “Wanna get you off one more time, yeah?”

“Okay.” Mo closes his eyes and lets the feeling of Zeke’s cock pounding into him wash over him. It’s his first time, after all, he should savor it. Everything has moved so fast. Mo’s not complaining but as his thoughts clear and the memories of the rest of the night come flooding back to him, he realizes he’s not so sure when he’ll get this again.

He clenches around Zeke’s dick and is rewarded with another nip at his neck, a moan in his ear. 

“Might come before I get you off,” Zeke grits out.

Mo nods. “Yeah, that’s okay, yeah.” He reaches down and moves Zeke’s hand aside to play with his own cock. He presses two fingers to his swollen dick and rubs in time to the rhythm of Zeke’s cock inside him. He works his hips against Zeke and into his own hand and it’s a smaller fire than before but it’s no less hot—he’s going to come a third time, something he’s never done before. 

“Fuck, Momo,” Zeke groans as his thrusts turns clumsy, “gonna come, fuck, _shit_.” Zeke’s hand, slick with Mo’s own wetness, slides up his body to cup Mo’s chest and thumb over his nipple. It’s a thoughtless, easy gesture that rocks Mo to his core, somehow. Zeke hips buck up, pushing his cock deeper into Mo, and he starts to come. 

Mo has several realizations at once: 

Zeke is coming inside him, hot and wet.

_Fuck_ , they didn’t use a condom. 

Mo never wants this feeling to end. 

And lastly, hitting him just before his own orgasm and lingering with him through the pleasure: he’s in so much fucking trouble, his life might actually be over. 

He braces a hand on Zeke’s knee and leans forward as he finishes himself off, fingers working rapidly. Zeke’s cock is still pulsing inside him and even with anxiety quickly welling up inside him, it’s too arousing to ignore. Mo comes a third time, weaker and softer, but he revels in it all the same. 

He’s still hunched over Zeke’s knees and trying to catch his breath when an arm winds around his waist and tugs him back. He falls against Zeke with a sigh.

“So,” Zeke says, peppering kisses along Mo’s neck, “not bad?” 

“Not bad at all,” Mo says, smiling briefly. 

Zeke hums, content. His hand rubs along Mo’s belly to his hip, down to his bare thighs. “You’re gonna be fine, Mo,” Zeke says softly. “Just tell them it was all me.”

Mo blinks. It’s like someone’s dumped a bucket of cold water down his back. “What? Really?” He hadn’t even really considered ratting Zeke out, even though it _is_ his fault. Even though lots of things in Mo’s life are Zeke’s fault. 

“Yeah, man.”

“Just like that?” It feels bizarre to be having this conversation while Zeke’s softening cock is still inside him, come leaking out between his thighs. 

“Yeah,” Zeke says again, “what are they gonna do? Look at where I live. What’re they gonna do, steal my DMX poster?” Zeke laughs. “Just tell them I sold you the drugs and alcohol and whatever.”

Zeke’s hand still moves in gentle, soothing circles over Mo’s sides and stomach but the gesture is no longer comforting. Mo shifts before finding the strength to push off from Zeke’s lap. His legs are still shaking and the feeling of his own slick and Zeke’s come dripping out of him is weird. It doesn’t feel as good, now. 

“No,” Mo says as he grabs the sweats off the floor. 

“What do you mean, no?” Zeke asks. He doesn’t even bother tucking his dick away immediately. He just watches Mo pull the sweats back on with a somewhat interested, somewhat bored expression.

“You’ve done enough,” Mo says. The sex was a good distraction but now he feels kind of sick. It was stupid, especially to do it without a condom. It felt incredible but his life is still going to be in shambles come tomorrow morning, regardless of how good the sex was. “I’ve got to take care of this on my own.” 

Mo takes a shaky step backwards and as he turns to reach for his bag full of wet clothes, he half-hopes Zeke will say something. _Anything_. Something to show he really cares, that their entire friendship wasn’t just some game to pass the time. Mo makes it to the door, his hand on the doorknob, without Zeke speaking. 

“You’ve done enough,” Mo says again as his body starts to ache—his thighs and between them, his cock and his throat, raspy from moaning. He opens the front door and slams it shut behind him. He has to walk back home, or he has to man up and call his parents and there’s no way he’s doing that. He pulls out his phone long enough to fire off a text letting them know he’s safe and on his way home and then, body and heart aching, he starts his trek home. 


End file.
